Vahdin Do Vokun
by Gaara's Plaything
Summary: The return of the Dragonborn is met with mixed feelings, but mostly it's good. But her return also heralds the reappearance of an enemy for Skyrim. When all prepare to go to war, where shall the Dragonborn's heart lie? F/DragonbornXVilkas, with a little Brynjolf, Ulfric and Farkas on the side. T for now, may go up at later dates.


**Damn my sister! I had a nice little innocuous story planned, then, when I asked her help in finding a title, because quite frankly I was stumped, she went and gave me all sorts of ideas that made this whole damned thing more complicated than it needed to be! Now I've got all these possible plots running through my head making this story epic (for me) and it's so damned frustrating! Oh well, doesn't matter I suppose…**

**Vahdin Do Vokun is Dragon language for Maiden of Shadow, and I'm making it for this story that that is Odahviing's nickname (of sorts) for my Dragonborn, a reference to the fact that she's an agent of shadow with Nocturnal and the Nightingales. Sorry, it's the best I could do.**

**I don't own Skyrim, Bethesda does, but please enjoy this story I made up with their characters…**

_**Vahdin Do Vokun**_

**Chapter One – Old Friends**

Ralof was patrolling along the Whiterun and Falkreath borders. It had been more than a few years since the Stormcloaks had taken back Skyrim, and the patrols were mostly for keeping an eye out in case the Thalmor tried to sneak in, as well as having the added responsibility of taking out any bandits, vampires and such they may find. Each patrol had a minimum of three and a maximum of seven well trained soldiers in it, Ralof's patrol had four, not including himself. They hadn't found any suspicious activity, other than the aforementioned bandits and occasionally a wolf or bear. But it was always best to remain on guard.

The last time Ralof had heard of any Thalmor actually being in Skyrim, though, was just over six months ago. A patrol had run into a small group that had infiltrated the mountains in the east of the Rift Hold. The patrol had taken them out, of course, though it hadn't been his patrol. Ralof had been on the other side of Skyrim at the time, but the patrol leader, Alfr, was an old friend of his, and he'd shared the story over a few pints of mead in Candlehearth Hall.

Currently, they were searching for someone that a hunter had seen in Falkreath Hold, headed in the general direction of Riverwood. The person was hooded, their dark armour unfamiliar to the hunter, who was apparently an ex-soldier and knew practically every type of armour there was. Ralof wasn't too sure of the man's boast, but had ordered his patrol to spread out and find this person with the order to locate but not to engage. If they were spotted, then they needed to report back to him so that if necessary, they could take this mysterious figure on with better odds.

This all could be for nothing, the unknown person might not be hostile. But one really couldn't be too careful, and the report of unknown armour made him feel a little uneasy about the whole situation.

Suddenly there was a rustle amongst the bushes, and Ralof drew his weapon, ready to defend himself if necessary. More rustling, and then a figure dropped down in front of him, seemingly out of nowhere, and he was instantly on the defensive. The person was wearing the unfamiliar armour that the hunter had described. Ralof could tell immediately that the person was a woman; the armour was fitted to her curves so well it was almost like a second skin. The cloak billowed behind her and her hood had her facial features concealed completely.

"Who are you?" he demanded. "Identify yourself!"

"Come now, Ralof, is that any way to talk to a lady?" the woman asked, her voice low and sultry.

"How do you know my name?" he demanded.

"Surely you recognise my voice?" she asked a little more normally. "We are, after all, old friends."

The cogs in Ralof's brain were going a million miles per second, then finally he realised he did indeed know that voice. "Freyja?" he asked tentatively.

The woman reached up and pulled her hood off, revealing that it was indeed his old friend Freyja, with whom he'd battled alongside at Helgen, then during the campaign to liberate Skyrim. He sheathed his weapon, surged forward, and gathered her up in a bear hug.

"By Talos, Freyja!" he exclaimed to her laughing at his exuberance. "Where have you been, girl? People were starting to wonder if you'd abandoned us!"

"I've been right here," she told him as he let her go. "This armour has been really great for anonymity, y'know?"

"If you've been here the whole time, where were you?" Ralof asked.

"Riften," she told him. "I have certain duties there, and it's rather easy to hide in that city."

"Why were you hiding?"

"I needed to get away," she told him. "All that hero worship was getting to me."

Ralof nodded understandingly, even though he knew there was no way he could, not to the extent Freyja had had her celebrity. "Galmar Stone-Fist wanted to go hunt you down for desertion," Ralof told her, "but then Ulfric told him that he'd agreed to let you go once every hold was liberated."

"Ulfric?" Freyja asked in a teasing tone. "Are you allowed to speak with such familiarity of the High King?"

Ralof laughed. "I'm one of his most loyal Stormcloaks," he told her, a little pride in his voice. "Like Galmar and a few others, he insists we call him Ulfric. To everyone else, he's sir, or Your Majesty."

Freyja smiled, then Ralof asked, "What are you doing out here then, if you were so intent on hiding?"

Freyja shrugged. "Got bored of hiding, wanted to get out and do some travelling," she told him. "Ran into a hunter a little while ago who looked at me strangely, then took off."

"Ah, yes, Hrokr," Ralof said. "He was a little spooked by you because he didn't recognise your armour. He's ex-legion, and apparently knows every armour that exists."

"Well, that's ridiculous," Freyja said, frowning. "And impossible. What if someone had designed a unique armour? Is he going to freak out _every_ time?"

Ralof sighed. "We've had some trouble with the Thalmor trying to sneak in their spies in the past," he told her. "Hrokr probably just panicked."

"I've heard about that," Freyja noted.

There was silence for awhile, then Ralof asked, "Are you going to reveal yourself to everyone again? People have missed you."

Freyja shrugged. "Probably," she admitted. "Riften was getting a little dull, what with seeing the same old walls day after day. I suppose there are a lot of people I should go see, people I left in the lurch when I left. I did leave notes, though."

Ralof smiled, then put his fingers to his lips, letting out a shrill and piercing whistle that startled Freyja. "What was that for?" she asked.

"That was the all-clear to my men," he told her.

"Your men?"

"I'm in charge of the patrols out here."

"Congratulations."

"Thanks," he told her, then offered, "You're welcome to come with me to our camp. Hrokr is there too, and it will put his mind at ease when he realises who you are."

Freyja sighed. "Might as well," she mumbled, and fell into step behind Ralof as he lead the way back to camp.

Hrokr was indeed relieved when he discovered his 'mysterious figure' was the Dragonborn, and he had a million different questions about her armour. Freyja wasn't really all that interested in answering him, though. It was getting close to night now, and Ralof offered Freyja the use of a bedroll, which she accepted gratefully.

Ralof's patrol, Trud, Nerthus, Kolbyr and Tallus, all welcomed Freyja enthusiastically, inviting her to drink with them around the campfire. Freyja accepted, but Ralof ordered Trud to keep watch, and the man grudgingly obeyed, muttering about missing out on drinking with the Dragonborn.

OoOoO

Freyja had been surprised but pleased to see Ralof out here. She had been walking at a leisurely pace when she'd heard him tramping through the woods, no doubt believing he was being stealthy. And he probably was, but she was the Guildmaster of the Thieves Guild, and one of Nocturnal's Nightingales, no one could hide from her. Well actually, Karliah could, and Brynjolf as well. Though trying to track down Brynjolf was infinitely more pleasurable than trying to find Karliah… Ahem…

Kinky sex games aside, Freyja had decided to shadow Ralof for a bit, realising that he was searching for someone. So she decided to make her presence known, making a little more noise than was necessary, and jumping down out of that tree right in front of him. She hadn't been entirely honest about her reasons for leaving Riften, but that was Guild business and he didn't really need to know.

Still, she was looking forward to reuniting with some of the people she hadn't seen in a few years, like the Companions and her housecarls, the latter of whom should still be looking after her properties. She received letters every now and then from them about the upkeep of her houses, these usually passed on via the Guild's fence in that hold.

But right now, she sat around a campfire with Ralof and his men, along with the hunter that had apparently been a bit twitchy over her Nightingale armour. He really wouldn't shut up about it either. But she ignored him and instead listened to the 'war stories' of the soldiers.

"…and then Brede and me were running for it before the Imperials could figure out what had happened!" the only woman in Ralof's patrol, Nerthus, said.

Everyone was roaring with laughter at that, and Freyja felt happy in the company of these honest people. When you live with the Thieves Guild for a few years, honesty wasn't something you could necessarily rely upon, no matter how much she loved those people. Finally it was time for those not on watch to sleep, and Freyja settled in, feeling more content than she had in years.

Waking the next morning had her discovering that Hrokr had left before the sun had come up, wanting to get back to his own camp as soon as possible. After a breakfast of rock warbler eggs cooked up with some eider cheese, spread on some bread and washed down with some mead, Freyja said goodbye to Ralof, who had wanted her to travel with them as they headed off to Falkreath to report in. But Freyja intended to go to Whiterun, and Ralof had conceded after insisting that she at least stop in to see Gerdur and Hod on her way.

Freyja travelled the whole day, reaching Riverwood a few hours before the sun was due to set. Before she went in, she concealed herself behind some trees and changed into a green dress, one that Brynjolf had always told her contrasted well with her red hair and highlighted the green in her eyes. He'd been fishing with those compliments, hoping to get laid that night, but she knew he'd meant them despite the fact that his attempts had been unsuccessful. She'd been in a foul mood that night, and took it out on him by denying him. The next day she made it up to him though…

Gerdur, Hod and Frodnar were glad to see her, and insisted that she stay the night. She agreed, but made sure they knew it was only an overnight visit, she was definitely leaving the next day. She caught up with everyone in town though, like Lucan, Camilla and Orgnar, the latter telling her he hadn't seen Delphine since she'd left Riverwood all those years ago. Freyja wasn't surprised, she was probably off with Esbern trying to resurrect the Blades.

Frodnar and Dorthe had grown up so fast in her absence, both were teens now, dealing with matters that puberty always threw at them, like how Frodnar blushed adorably whenever Dorthe looked at him. It made Freyja giggle at the innocence of it all. Gerdur, Hod and Sigrid were all pleased with where it looked to be going, although Alvor didn't seem too happy about his little girl being under the crush of 'some boy' as he'd huffed to Freyja.

Another who was there was Hadvar, who'd apparently quit the legion after the Empire had been chased out of Skyrim. She'd only met him that once, but he definitely still remembered her. He told her that he would have followed the legion to Cyrodiil, but his family was here.

"Ralof told me a couple of years ago that if I wanted to join the Stormcloaks, he'd vouch for me to the King," Hadvar told her. "But I can't see myself serving with them. I was an Imperial soldier…"

"So was the High King," Freyja reminded him. "I can't believe that they're still calling themselves Stormcloaks. Well, maybe I can, it's probably a matter of honour… You Nords and your damned pride!"

Hadvar laughed and reminded her, "Hey, you're a Nord too, you know."

"Maybe by blood," Freyja said, her smile slipping. "But I was raised in Cyrodiil after all."

"It's a wonder you joined the Stormcloaks instead of the legion back then," Hadvar commented.

Shaking her head, Freyja told him, "My father raised me to believe in Talos, I couldn't side with the people who'd allowed his worship to be banned."

Their conversation after that turned to more mundane matters before Freyja had returned to Gerdur and Hod's for the night. She left the next morning.

The walk to Whiterun was much the same as it had been all those years ago, really only a couple of wolves along the path. The farms and the meadery were all still there, the only thing missing were three Companions fighting off a troll in Pelagia Farm. Freyja hadn't worn any armour on the way, she was in a blue dress for the trip. Her reflexes were sharp enough to prevent the wolves getting a drop on her, and she had no random encounters with thieves, bandits or assassins, thank Talos.

The guards on duty at Whiterun's gate didn't recognise her and let her through with a warning to keep away from locks and people's pockets, not that she'd abide by that if she didn't want to, but still… The city was much the same as she'd left it, though there was once difference she noticed as soon as she walked in the gate. Adrianne was at the Warmaiden's forge as usual, but she wasn't working. Instead she was talking rather seriously to a toddler on her hip about the importance of tanning leather properly. So… she and Ulfberth had had a child…

Freyja smiled and waved at Adrianne as she passed her, and the woman frowned, trying to place her. Then her eyes widened in recognition, but by then Freyja was unlocking the door to Breezehome with the key Lydia had sent her after the door had been irreversibly broken. She never did say how it happened in her letter… Lydia was one of the few outside Riften who'd known where she'd gone, the only one in Whiterun who did. Not even all her other housecarls knew, though Freyja knew that they probably guessed.

Looking around, Freyja saw that the house looked pretty much the same as when she'd left, though definitely neater. The fire was crackling nicely in the hearth and she could smell venison soup cooking in the pot hanging over the fire. Freyja took a step forward, stopping at the sight of Lydia coming down the stairs. The younger woman froze at the sight of her, blinking like she couldn't believe what she was seeing.

"My Thane?"

**Please review! Pretty please?**


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